"But familiar night slips in between again, and yet again, upon the road of our passion, each day has it's goal: a green twilight, a murmuring spring, a grove awaits us, where soft moss consoles our feet, our brows are cooled with blissful airs of home and peace; and with arms outstretched, head dropping backward, with opening lips, with eyes grown blessedly dim, we enter within its priceless shades. Sleep, Sweet Sleep- Thomas Mann
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